


Safely Stowed

by AssassinOfRome



Category: Cabin Pressure, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Child Arthur makes a slight appearance and he's so cute, Douglas and Carolyn are heroes, Early MJN, How Dirk escapes Project Blackwing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Pre-Series, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Smuggling, Younger Carolyn, child dirk, younger Douglas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12616520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: The boy is tiny, and can’t be much older than Arthur, though he’s both taller and thinner. Concerningly skinny, she thinks, as he grabs hold of her hands and shakes them slightly. The shadows playing on his upturned, frightened face make him look almost skeletal.“Please. Please, you’ve got to help me. If they find me, they’ll-“There’s another knock at Gerti’s door and the boy squeals, clinging to her, burying his face into her shoulder like Arthur does when he doesn’t want to seem like he’s crying. Instinctively, Carolyn wraps her hand around the back of her head, and knows what she needs to do.Fic written to explain the slight plot hole of how Dirk managed to go to the UK and attend St Cedd’s if Project Blackwing is based in the United States. And also just because.Douglas and Carolyn are flying back from the US when they are suddenly surprised by a small stowaway, running from his fate and only assisted by the sway of the universe.





	Safely Stowed

Carolyn’s traipsing through the airport the first time she sees him.

Usually, she wouldn’t bother glancing around at the loving couples and happy families overflowing in the waiting area, preferring to dive straight for the staff quarters and attempt to pretend she was nothing more than a lowly stewardess with a heart free of divorces and debt. But every time she tries to forget about her messy life outside of her messy airline, she feels a pang of guilt. If she ignores that part of her, she’s ignoring the best part of her life – her baby, her boy. She hates leaving Arthur behind, but long-haul flights to the US make such sacrifices inevitable. She hopes he’s behaving himself for his aunt Ruth, though she wouldn’t exactly object if he didn’t. Ruth had never liked Arthur. Unfortunately, Arthur did like Aunt Ruth. Arthur liked everyone.

Maybe it was precisely because she was thinking so hard about her own son that she spotted the reluctant looking lad inching away from the man she assumed to be his father. The man had a tight grip on the boy’s arm – too tight, she figures, judging by the way he squirms – and is scowling at the flight times. His clothes are suspiciously raggedy, and he doesn’t seem to be wearing any shoes, yet none of the other passengers or staff so much as spare him a glance, even when he makes little noises of discomfort. Something about the sight made her feel sick and unnerved. Perhaps it was his struggling. Perhaps it was the tears in his eyes. Perhaps it was the easy way the man smacks the boy when his whining gets too loud. She catches the boy’s eye and her heart skips a beat as he seems to mouth something at her. She can’t make it out however, and shakes her head, moving along.

She tries to forget about him, she really does, as she settles into her routine. Luckily, it’s a cargo flight so she doesn’t have to worry about any passengers, but that means she does have to concern herself more closely with the pilot. There’s a whole other can of worms she wishes to keep firmly shut.

Douglas is six years her junior and so should be nowhere near as alluring as he is. Yet his words are witty, his smile is charming and when she makes him laugh, it feels like an achievement. His life is as patchy as hers, so she feels an almost kindred spirit in him. She’d been meaning to discuss it with him before now, and she brings him his coffee she almost does, when she’s interrupted by the pattering of tiny feet approaching the cockpit.

She doesn’t know how she got in; Douglas has always been meticulous about his walkrounds and locking the door is hopefully the first thing they teach you at flight school, and yet the boy from before is here, sweating and shaking and swallowing erratically, practically falling to his knees as he sees them. He is tiny, and can’t be much older than Arthur, though he’s both taller and thinner. Concerningly skinny, she thinks, as he grabs hold of her hands and shakes them slightly. The shadows playing on his upturned, frightened face make him look almost skeletal. Before either of them can ask any questions, there is a frantic knocking at the door, and the boy’s panting turns to little gasps of terror. He manages to form words, sounding clipped and quiet.

“Please. Please, you’ve got to help me. If they find me, they’ll-“

There’s another knock at Gerti’s door and the boy squeals, clinging to her, burying his face into her shoulder like Arthur does when he doesn’t want to seem like he’s crying. She remembers the fear on his face the first time she saw him, and when she glances at his wrist, she can see the first hints of bruising amongst all the chafed red. Instinctively, she wraps her hand around the back of her head, and knows what she needs to do.

“Get in the locker and hold your breath.” When he doesn’t react, she gives him a little shove, which she regrets, as he stumbles slightly and blinks at her in confusion. Douglas is looking equally horrified, clever mouth agape.

“What? Carolyn, no – we-we can’t!” Usually she would delight in flummoxing the ingenious Captain Richardson, but there’s no time for that now, so she merely fixes the pilot with a cold glare and nudges the boy closer to the locker. By this point, he seems to have got the message, and only looks a tiny bit terrified as he clambers inside. For a moment, she wonders if he’ll even fit, but he bows his head and curls up small and suddenly there are swathes of room. But seeing him imprisoned in there seems wrong, and she wants to pull him out again, but the knocking has grown violent by this point, and she barely gets time to register his brave wavering smile as she slams the door shut, and prays he can keep quiet.

Douglas seems to have collected himself by the time she goes to answer the door, but he still shoots her one last suspicious glance before turning back to his console and fiddling with the controls. She takes a single deep breath, plasters on her best “how can I help” smile, and walks down the aisle with a practised ease. She doesn’t even flinch when the knocking man decides to continue knocking just an inch away from her face as the door swings open.

“Good evening, is there anything I can-“ Her composed expression is for naught as the man from before, the boy’s companion, barges past her with a snarl, and starts pawing through Gerti’s seats. He’s fair-haired, and in another life could be considered attractive, but his eyes are cold and mean when he squints at her.

“I want to speak to your pilot. I’m looking for a very dangerous individual and I think he may have boarded this vessel.” He looks around and sniffs unpleasantly, reminding Carolyn of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. “What are you waiting for, girl? Go and get him.”

Usually Carolyn would have fired back with a few short, sharp words but she senses now isn’t the time. She turns to the cockpit, and feels the man’s breath on her neck. He stinks of gunpowder and sweat and she can’t help but shudder.

Her fear transcends her as she watches Douglas spin in his chair and mimic perfect shock as he spies the strange man; he really should have become an actor, he’s disarmingly good at such trickery. She feels herself drawn to him, and is comforted when he stands, and places a grounding arm around her shoulder.

“Can I help you?” Douglas asks, casual as you please, and Carolyn could kiss him then if it weren’t for the fact that she is Carolyn and he is Douglas and there may or may not be a tiny terrorist hidden in the storage locker.

“Have you seen a boy on this vessel?” The man barks, spit flying from his mouth as he speaks, wild eyes scanning every inch of the cockpit. Douglas’ eye twitches and she prays to God he keeps a civil tongue; he must be aching to mock the man, but he doesn’t seem to have the temperament for word games. Thankfully, Douglas just shakes his head.

“No, sir. No children here. We’re an adults-only airline.” It’s the first little white lie, which means the next will be easier. She would sigh with relief, but the man doesn’t seem convinced.

“He’s light haired, blue eyed, and extremely dangerous. He responds to the name of Icarus, and we have reason to believe he’s trying to flee the country.” The man squats down to peer under the controls and growls when he sees nothing, pacing about the room and flinging cupboards and doors. Carolyn keeps her eyes firmly forward and tries not to glance at the locker. “If you refuse to disclose his location, I will be forced to use more… serious interrogation techniques.” His voice, slick and dark as oil, makes her cower, but Douglas stands straighter and scowls back.

“Is that a threat?” He asks, voice booming, yet measured. He holds out a hand, like a father confiscating a toy. “Show me your credentials.”

This, at least, strikes a shred of fear into the man, and he quickens his search of the room, grabbing hold of the locker door and tugging it. Carolyn’s eyes widen, expecting it to spring open, yet it means groans and holds, stuck fast. Douglas must have locked it. In the moments of silence between the man’s desperate tugs and his grunts of defeat, she listens for the boy’s breathing. Yet she hears not a single whimper.

She’s practically trembling with fear; he must be terrified.

“Show me your credentials.” Douglas repeats, sterner this time as he steps away from her and towards the man, who pays him no attention and continues to pull at the door handle, which creaks worryingly. If he tugs it off, they’ll never get the boy free.

“Open this door, open this door, you fat fuck.” The man howls, but Douglas doesn’t bat an eyelid, grabbing the man by the shoulders and pulling him away from the door. “You are harbouring a fugitive! I’ll get you banned from flying for life!”

“Get off this aeroplane and I will not contact security.” Douglas is already ushering the man out of the room, though he starts writhing in his arms and scrabbles for the locker. She makes sure to block it with her back, and though she knows it must look suspicious, she will not move until she knows he is gone. “Search for this… this terrorist elsewhere. You won’t find him in a broken locker!”

There’s a fair amount of roaring and cursing as Douglas escorts the man from Gerti, and Carolyn can’t help but slide to the ground, keeping her back pressed against the locker as she tries to recover her breath. She can feel the chill of it through her shirt, and now she’s at the right height, she can hear the frantic little breaths of the boy. If it weren’t for the door, she would reach out and grab his hand.

“Are you alright?” She whispers instead, but gets no response aside from a strangled sob. Still, that communicates all she needs to hear, and she reaches for the handle. She is interrupted, however, by the cry of a returning Douglas.

“Not yet!” His face is flushed, and she can see the beginnings of a bruise forming around his eye – the man must have slapped him hard on his exit; something that makes Carolyn’s stomach clench in rage. “There’s every chance he could come back. Wait until we’re in the air.”

She wants to object, but knows there is no other option. She whispers this to the boy, and he quietens, though whether this is out of relief or terror, she can’t tell. Moving away from the locker, she eases herself into the co-pilot’s seat and watches as Douglas gets them moving out of the hangar and into the air. He’s staring straight ahead, though his cheek must be aching something fierce.

They’ve been flying for about five minutes when Douglas nods, and she returns to the locker, where she can see through the ventilation holes that the boy is now standing, stooped but waiting. She gives him what she hopes is a comforting smile.

“Douglas, give me your keys.”

“What? Why?” He turns slightly to frown at her, and she mirrors the action. “Use yours – you locked him in.”

“No, I didn’t.” She feels, for a moment, as if the universe is swaying, as she reaches for the handle and it opens without a hint of complaint. She finds herself gasping. “How did you-“

“The universe is looking out for me.” The boy answers, giving her a sheepish little grin. It suits him. He steps out and blinks at the light, looking a little dazed. “You saved me – you actually saved me.”

“Who was that man? What did he want with you? Was he right about you being dangerous? Where did you-” Douglas asks in quick succession, and Carolyn can feel the questions bubbling up inside her too, but the hunted, frightened look returns to the boy and she beats them down again. She limits herself to one, having to ease the burning curiosity just slightly.

“Will you be safe now that you’re away from him?” The boy nods enthusiastically, and she can feel the relief radiating from him. She allows herself one more question, this time reverting to her standard stewardess smile as she does so.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

* * *

Over the course of the flight, they learn a select few facts about the boy, but nothing truly to explain his identity or insistence to run from the aggressive man, other than his obvious fear. He seems very confused, and she wonders for a while if he’d been recently drugged, as he would often lapse into moments of silence, staring into space, before returning to almost hyperactive chatting. He wriggles and moves constantly, even when settled in the co-pilot’s chair, and though he refuses to answer many of their questions, he asks an extraordinary amount. By the end of their time together, she’s come to learn more trivia about Douglas than she ever thought possible, from his favourite colour to his worst nightmare, and she can’t help but feel closer to him as a result.

Yet the boy is peculiar in more than just his speech. He practically inhales the food she puts in front of him yet seems baffled at the concept of tea, trying to chug the entire cup and ending up howling in pain as the hot liquid scalds his tongue. Yet he claims to love the substance, and drinks another cup before landing, this time slower and with more appreciation. As he devours almost everything they have on board, she wonders again if he’s been starved, and shoots a look towards Douglas, who shrugs and hands over half a packet of biscuits he had stored in his flight bag.

And when asked his name, he responds oddly once more. He pauses at first, which is never a good sign, but doesn’t mention Icarus, which makes Carolyn slightly confused. He instead glances towards the copy of Macbeth that sits in amongst Douglas’ artefacts and studies her for a second before responding with an uncertain “Dirk… Gently…” Douglas snorts a little, and the boy’s eyes widen, but she simply nods and offers to get him a jumper from lost property. At the thought of new clothes, the boy’s eyes light up, and he springs to his feet, eager to paw through the unmissed and unloved. When she pulls out a frankly eyewatering yellow leather jacket which hangs off him, she doesn’t say a word, not wishing to shatter the utter delight on his face. At least it’s waterproof, she reasons, as she presses a few warmer, less conspicuous articles towards him. She makes sure he has shoes; the scuffed trainers that he rams onto his feet are a little worse for wear but there are no holes, and when he wears several pairs of socks, they almost fit correctly.

When he swings his feet back and forth as he sits in the co-pilot’s seat, he doesn’t look like a terrorist. He looks like a giddy little boy, no different from her own.

When the boy manages to fall asleep for a few hours, she and Douglas talk, about anything other than the stow-away between them. Douglas seems to be handling the whole thing remarkably well, considering how he winces whenever he moves his mouth too much, bruise blossoming down his cheek towards his jaw. She lets him win their word game, and he crows with pride, though his heart wasn’t really in it either. When the boy snuffles in his sleep, they both fall quiet until landing.

GERTI, for once, doesn’t even hint at any problems as she lands with all the grace of a newly made fighter jet. The boy’s eyelids flutter as Douglas taxis into the airport, and she knows they only have moments before he wakes.

“What are you going to do with him? She asks, and Douglas shakes his head, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Me? I’m not going to do anything with him, Carolyn; this was your idea.”

“I can’t take him, I need to look after Arthur. You don’t have any family, it wouldn’t be so su-“

“I may not have children, Carolyn but I have friends. Family. People would notice if I suddenly became Super Dad over night!”

“Yes but you don’t have Social Services breathing down your-“

“You don’t have to look after me.” In comparison to his earlier fright, the boy looks almost serene now, easing himself off the co-pilot’s seat and giving them both a bright smile. He seems so much calmer now that he’s away from America. “I can look after myself. Well, the universe can.”

“What are you talking about? You’re just a-“ She wants to keep arguing but the boy shrugs, the yellow jacket he’d claimed nearly falling off his narrow shoulders. When he speaks, he seems more mature now, unafraid.

“The universe will look after me, I know it will. It’s gotten me this far.” He doesn’t seem too concerned about how exactly this is going to happen, but neither does Douglas, who just nods, and pulls out his wallet, pressing a handful of cash into the boy’s hand. The boy looks startled, and tries to give it back, but Douglas refuses it.

“You need it more than I do. Use it to buy food and find somewhere warm to sleep.” He pulls out a MJN business card for good measure and thrusts it upon the boy. “And if you need anything, call this number. We’ll answer.”

“How can I thank yo-“ The boy starts but Douglas shakes his head again.

“Don’t worry about that. Just worry about keeping yourself safe.” He takes a deep breath and opens the cockpit door. “Good luck, Dirk Gently.”

“Thank you. Both of you. The universe will reward you for this, I can feel it.” The boy squeaks out before darting down the aisle and out of the plane. Carolyn wants to follow him, ask more questions, but she knows any yelling for him to return will only draw attention to them. Instead, she turns to Douglas and scowls.

“Why did you do that? We could have protected him!”

“Could we?” Douglas asks, equally agitated as he prepares to power down GERTI. “He seems to have a plan, and God knows he’s in a better situation now than he was before we helped him. He-he’ll be fine. Maybe the universe really is on his side.” Douglas stuck his chin out and nodded, though he seems just as uncertain as Carolyn felt.

“You better be right about this, Richardson.” She stated, turning her back on him and preparing to leave. As she opened the plane door and felt the cold night air on her face, she tried not to think of boys in yellow jackets running from their fate and instead of boys in newspaper hats, running around her living room pretending to fly stuffed planes with GERTI sewn lovingly onto its side.

“I usually am.” Douglas retorted, and Carolyn had no choice but to trust him.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, congrats if you made it this far. I definitely prefer this fic to my other Dirk one, but it's still a little... eh. 
> 
> I have an idea for a post-script if anyone's interested. 
> 
> Comments of all kinds are welcome! 
> 
> Have an awesome day!!


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